


flowers of duscur's fields

by okamiwind



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Emotional Baggage, M/M, Missing Scene, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Reunions, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:28:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 19,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25487761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/okamiwind/pseuds/okamiwind
Summary: they made a promise to each other. dimitri has always been dutiful, but this would be different.he would give his lifeblood to honor the words he spoke that night.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Dedue Molinaro
Comments: 26
Kudos: 66





	1. before

They came in the middle of the night, once Dimitri had already accepted his fate. Felix was right, of course, had _always_ been right about him. There was something brutal inside him, wild and cruel. Dimitri knew her well, the lady vengeance. He knew that she could be ruthless. She could be dangerous. He always knew there was a chance that this would be his fate. 

He rested his head against the warm stone floor. It reminded him of… of so many things. The sun during a snowstorm. The fires of winter. But the vision that kept coming back to him, no matter what visions plagued him… the warmth of Dedue’s hands. When Dimitri closed his eyes, he could almost feel it against his face. Warm. Rough. Gentle. 

He could not say for certain how long he had been imprisoned in the highest cell of the Lonely Tower, only that his hair had grown long. And Goddess, he was lonely. The only thing that kept him company were the voices of the ghosts. He was haunted. He still heard the sounds of them screaming. Guttural and low. Like animals. 

Some nights he dreamt of the fire fields. The flowers burned in amber and gold, and it would have been beautiful if it hadn't been so maddening. He walked through those fires in the dark hours, and the flames didn’t seem to catch along his cloak or his clothing, but he could feel the red tongues licking at his ears, hot and viscous. 

_Kill her_ , they said. _It’s what she deserves. It’s what everyone deserves._

He hit his fists against the floor so many times that his skin split open. He had licked the blood clean, spitting the red back onto the stone floor. It dried in the most peculiar shapes. He could almost see faces in the viscera. Oh, the faces of the fallen… he told himself the same thing each night, trying to find sleep as he whispered the words to himself: _If I ever get out of this place, I will deliver you her soul, and you can rip into it with your teeth. The bitter flesh can be your final meal, and with that, you might rest in peace._

Slumped against the wall, he could see the white light of the moon through the barred window. He reached out with a weak hand, trying to take it in his hand. Just as he thought, it was too far away to touch. 

His arm fell to his side weakly as he let his eyes drift shut. 

_Let me rest_ , he pleaded within himself. _Let me rest just a little._

But then he heard a familiar noise, a sound that he had heard all his life, one that still rang in his ears… the song of war. 

The death cry of men never to return to their loved ones, the sound of blood bubbling up from their mouths, their gaping wounds. _Let them die_ , he thought to himself smiling, and he hit the back of his head against the wall once, then twice. _Let them squeal for mercy, and then only when they’ve given up the fight, let their lifeblood leak out over the floors. Let it bathe the Lonely Tower in red._

The sounds got closer and closer, though, and the more time slipped past him, the more Dimitri thought that perhaps, the fight had much more to do with him than he let himself believe. 

He heard the battle creep through the tower, and he let himself dream, even for just a moment. Maybe his father would be there to greet him, to tell him that it had all been a miserable nightmare, but something he could wake from. His mother, to tell him that the plague was nothing but a joke. His step-mother, Glenn, all those faces, all those names… just to tell him that all was well. All was well.

The clatter of metal streaked through the halls of the tower, and Dimitri sat there, waiting. If this was his execution, it was a strange one. No, he told himself, the clouds lifting. This was something different. Much different. 

Bodies collided through the hall, and Dimitri watched with interest as the fighters fought, as the dances were danced, as the blood spilled and white eyes went red. He didn’t understand, didn’t recognize anything until… until he saw the coat of arms. Until he saw familiar armor. Until he heard the voice call him by his title. 

“Your Highness!” 

Dimitri leapt to his feet, and he threw himself at the bars keeping him. Hands wrapped around the steel, he peered through. 

And there, there he was. 

Dedue wielded an axe, shining white in the moon as he swung it expertly through the air. He slew a guard, another and another, and the men around him, Dimitri couldn’t say who they were. All he knew was that Dedue was here. That he had kept his word, the very thing he’d uttered so many times. 

_Mine for yours._

They controlled the hall in record time, and Dimitri stood back as Dedue raised his axe high above his head. He brought the blade down onto the lock, shattered the security, and with that, he pulled the gate open. _Freedom_ , Dimitri thought, eyes welling with tears as he stared at Dedue. 

“W-What are you doing here?” Dimitri asked, the cracks beginning to splinter. 

“I am here to help, Your Highness,” Dedue said, and his face bled from a cut, but never had he looked more beautiful, never more fit to rule. 

A warrior, a savior, a _man of his word._ Truly loyal, _true and kind._

_I love you,_ Dimitri thought. _I love you, did you ever know that?_

Dimitri wanted to scream, wanted to throw himself with fervor into Dedue’s arms. Were they just as he remembered? Those nights in Garreg Mach, they seemed so long ago, the idyllic past. Dimitri’s mind raced with the memories, and for the first time in an eternity, he was able to shrug the demons awake from his shoulders, something more pleasant resting there instead: a vague regret. 

_I should have told him then,_ Dimitri thought, watching as Dedue turned and threw himself back into the frey. _Think of all the nights we could have spent together. Think of the things we could have done. The things we could have felt. Would it have changed me? Would circumstances be different?_

Dimitri wanted a weapon then, wanted something to hold and strike with. It would have been lovely to fight alongside him again, a lance in his hand, the adrenaline coursing through him. Instead, he stood there, watching as the men clashed, as Dedue struck them down one by one, as the onslaught slowed to a crawl. 

The river came to a trickle, and the fighters at Dedue’s side turned to him for command. It suited him well, the look of an officer. 

“Hold the stairwell,” Dedue said, pointing back the way they’d come. “Make sure no one gets in or out.” 

They hurried off to follow his order, and he turned back to Dimitri. 

“Your Highness,” Dedue said. “I apologize for my lateness.” 

“Y-You apologize?” Dimitri laughed, the ridiculous notion bubbling inside his chest. “No, I don’t think I’ll accept.” 

Dedue gave him the barest hint of a smile, something that looked like the past or maybe the distant future. 

Everything went wrong, but that, Dimitri assumed, had become the nature of things. Even when there is something beautiful in the world, something would destroy it. Beautiful things existed to be destroyed. 

There was a clatter, the kiss of metal, a soft sound of death, and after it had felt like they had all the time in the world, there was suddenly no time at all. 

Dimitri’s eyes grew wide with the most basic, primal sort of fear as the shadow of a mace crept over Dedue. Dimitri opened his mouth to warn, to shriek, to fight, but the mace caved in Dedue’s armor before Dimitri could utter a single word, expel a single sound. 

Blood fell from Dedue’s mouth as he collapsed into Dimitri’s arms. Dimitri watched in horror as another of Dedue’s men put a sword through the limping guard’s neck, bathing the floor of the cell scarlet as he dropped. 

Dimitri’s hands shook as he lowered Dedue’s body to the floor, as he tried to assess the damage. Panic sat in the pit of his stomach like grime, like river water, and he reached around Dedue’s body to feel the back of his cuirass. The dent was massive, and when he touched it, he could feel the injury through the metal. Shattered bones. His insides, all battered and bruised.

He would make it, Dimitri assessed, covering the hole with his hands. He had to. 

“You must be away from this place,” one of the men said hurriedly, looking back towards the hall, “before they find us here. We’ll be killed if the smirking duchess finds us. Her spells of death will pull the skin from our flesh.” 

“W-We can’t leave him,” Dimitri said. “We can’t just let him _die_.” 

“Your Highness.” Dimitri turned toward Dedue, furious and shaking. “It is all right.” 

“It isn’t right,” Dimitri said, voice growing. “Nothing is right. There _is_ no right, not anymore! Perhaps there’s never _been._ ” 

“Your Highness,” Dedue said calmly. 

“We’ve got to go,” the man behind them said. 

“In a _moment_ ,” Dimitri stressed. “Once I can lift him up.” 

“Leave us,” Dedue ordered over Dimitri’s shoulder. “I will send him along.” 

“You’ll do no such thing,” Dimitri said, frustrated tears welling in his eyes as he heard the men honor Dedue’s command. “Why do they listen to you so well?” 

“It matters not,” Dedue said. His eyes were wet, and Dimitri wished he didn’t have to see this. _Anything but this. This will end me._ “The people are waiting for you. The return of their king.” 

The words stab into him, sharper than any sword. 

“When everything is over,” Dimitri said, “I will find you again. I promise.” 

“Your Highness,” Dedue whispered, “this is the end.” 

“It isn’t,” Dimitri said, and he cradled Dedue’s head close. “It can’t be.” 

“Go.” 

“I can’t leave you,” Dimitri whispered harshly. “I can’t just… can’t just let them _have you_.” 

“I have always known that this would be the way I died,” Dedue said calmly, and he closed his eyes. “In your stead, Your Highness.” 

The frantic, frenetic energy welled within Dimitri’s chest, a current threatening to drown him. “P-Please.” He took Dedue’s hand in his, brought it to his forehead, eyes shut so hard he saw stars. “Please, not yet, I—” 

“I have a request,” Dedue said weakly, and Dimitri immediately lowered their hands, staring into Dedue’s eyes. 

“On my honor as a Blaiddyd, a-as the future king of Faerghus… anything you would ask of me, I shall see it done,” Dimitri whispered, “my friend.” 

“When it is all over, when you sit upon the throne and all is well,” Dedue said, “find time to see the flowers of Duscur. Watch them bloom, Your Highness, and remember the time we shared.”

“I-I can’t,” Dimitri said. “Not without you.” 

“You must.” 

“I can’t do it without you,” Dimitri whispered, the sounds of the words so sharp inside his mouth, he thinks he might spit knives. “I can’t.” 

“Promise me,” Dedue said. “Promise me, Your Highness.” 

“I-I promise, of course, I swear it to you.” 

“Remember. Don’t forget.” 

And suddenly, in that moment, Dedue was dying. 

“D-Don’t,” Dimitri begged, pleaded, but Dedue pulled his hand back, shutting his eyes as though it was the setting of the sun. 

“Go,” Dedue said. “And remember your oath.” 

Dimitri wanted so many things in that moment, to kiss the man lying on the floor of what was meant to be _his_ coffin, to tell him how he truly felt, to offer solace to the souls that clung to him, dust in his cloak, to kill, to kill something that mattered, kill something so large and terrifying and _horrible_ that it could turn back the hands of time. 

He laughed, a horrific sound even to his own ears. What a monstrous reality to face. Love can’t stop cruelty. It can’t even put up a good fight. 

Leaving him was the worst thing Dimitri had ever done, but it was what was necessary. Vengeance took him, put her arm around him, covered him in the night. The fighting raged on, the rebellions fervent and cruel. There was no justice in the world. There was only him. He was well and truly alone.

If the world was right, if honor and justice and glory were true, then Dedue would still be standing. 

He escaped in the shadow of the sounds of death. He would kill her. He had to. He would cover himself in blood if that was what was necessary. Once her head was clean from her shoulders, he would see the flowers of Duscur. He would bury himself beneath them.  
  


∑ 

In isolation, he grew sharp and mean.

 _No_ , he reminded himself, his lonesome journey only _revealed_ the sharpness, the meanness that had always existed beneath the thin, polite surface. 

Dimitri wandered through the forsaken countryside, and he happened across towns that had grown cold, filled to the brim with scum. He purged them, each and every one he found. There was happiness in it. He told himself there was. Joy in the killing. Hadn’t he always felt that way? 

Glory. Honor. He could almost remember the taste of them. So cloying and saccharine and then, once they sat in your mouth long enough… they were so very bitter. 

All of the world was a boil to be lanced. He had only yet speared the tip, but the pus came pouring out all the same. 

Bandits swarmed him, but the Crest burned within him. He took them by their throats, and he threw them into the stone walls. They painted it red. 

He warmed himself by the fire, and he stared at the stars. He couldn’t even close his eyes anymore, not without hearing their voices in his head. They told him to go. To move. They were chasing him. They were pushing him forward. There could be no peace until Edelgard was dead.

He fled in the dark, and he heard the sound of rats skittering in the endless night.  
  


∑ 

He ate by a small fire, skewers of whole fish roasted over the open flame. He’d been told that few enjoyed the meal, but it mattered not to him. He couldn’t taste it anyway. Dimitri tried to think back to the last thing he’d ever savored, something far in the past now.

The sight of food had always reminded him of Dedue, always made him think of the soft sounds of content he would make whenever cooking. Dimitri once thought that, if he could, he would regain his sense just to make Dedue happy, just to see him smile. 

Those thoughts were gone, of course, long gone. 

He would do whatever it took to let their ghosts rest. 

After a while though, he thought bitterly, he could barely remember their faces or the sounds of their voice. His father, his stepmother, Glenn… when would Dedue join those ranks? When would he no longer be able to remember the glimmer in his eyes? The small, tenuous smile? The warmth of his hands?  
  


∑ 

Dimitri lost his eye two years after he’d begun running. It was a cloudy day, and he’d stumbled into an ambush. He recognized the arms they wore, the two headed eagle upon a field of red. Imperialist pigs.

He charged into the fray without any care or concern, and immediately, he stole the lifeblood of two of their Great Knights, handling them easily. He spun, and at his back, there were two swordsmen. He disposed of them, the left first because he seemed more formidable. It was not the first time Dimitri had misjudged. Certainly not. 

The spare swept his sword through the air in an arc, and it came down upon Dimitri, slicing him across the face. His eye wept blood, and in a furious rage, he spun, impaling the poor fool on his lance so hard that it went clean through him and into the other. Dimitri huffed in pain, searching for the next person to cut through. 

It was not until the battle was won that Dimitri realized the sizzling pain would be an issue. If he was to keep moving, his feet underneath him, he would need to have it taken care of. With every step, it pained him. With every moment, it became that much more unbearable. 

He sought a healer in the town six days over, a hamlet still loyal to the crown. Dimitri laid himself on the healer’s table as the healer laid his hands on Dimitri’s chest, wincing as if in pain. 

“Your Highness,” he whispered sadly, “the infection has spread too far, too deeply. White magic will not suffice.” 

“Then pluck it out,” Dimitri replied, his hands balled into tight fists. “Let me be on my way.” 

“You could find a good life here, Your Highness, I swear by it,” the healer said, smiling down at Dimitri like he was a boy lost at the market. “You could… you could rest here in town until you were well enough to seek the assistance of the great houses.” 

“I will not seek their assistance,” Dimitri said. “Now take the eye, healer. I’ll pay you handsomely for the dirty work.” 

The healer looked down upon him with pity, Dimitri could feel it sitting like oil along his skin. He wished he could be rid of it. 

Dimitri wished he could say the feeling of the infected eye being pulled from the socket was the most painful thing he’d ever experienced, but his life was not so simple. He had lost the great love of his life, he had lost everything. He was nothing but a shell. If anything, the loss of his eye was joyful. One less part of him to keep living. One less part of him haunted. 

He sat by the fire in the middle of a field, the first of Faerghus’s summer snows falling lightly upon his shoulders. He took the end of his cape, cut the hem with his hunting knife. He fashioned it into a makeshift patch, sewing the edges with the needle and thread he’d stolen from a seamstress shop. He put it over his eye, thinking about what Dedue would say if he could see him now. 

_Be proud of me,_ Dimitri thought. _I will not be stopped, nothing will get in my way, but if something could discourage me, it would be your disdain._  
  


∑ 

Dimitri did not keep track of the days. There was no point in it. Time meant nothing to him. He was stuck in an endless cycle, doomed, cursed, living the same day with every rising sun. He struggled to find sleep, instead listened to the sound of the summerbugs clicking and clawing their way through the fields. He turned onto his back, and he traced along the stars with his eye.

He was fighting for something, he reminded himself. He was fighting for Dedue. He was fighting to put his soul to rest. That’s what he deserved. Peace. The quiet and still. The world was cold and blue, and Dimitri shut his eye, letting himself fall into the black. 

Dimitri touched the ground beside him, a hand to the dirt. 

_Would that we were buried together here_ , he thought. _Would that we rested in the earth together, our bodies finally one._

He found sleep that evening, and it was a rare blessing, reminding him of what needed to be done. He was the bringer of death, of justice.  
  


∑ 

The day he saw Byleth again, he thought he was dreaming. He must have been dreaming. Some ghost come to life, he thought, some cruel tormentress with those locks of white-green. She was a sign that the goddess was real, that something or someone was watching over everything they did. Fear struck through him, a terrible, horrible shame that bathed his feet in mud.

He turned from her. Didn’t want her to see his face. If she looked into his eyes, if she saw his pain, she would know what he had become, what he had let himself reveal. _Don’t see me like this,_ he thought. _You will tell me what he would tell me._

But she reached her hand towards him all the same. Fought alongside him. And then the rest of them had come. All of them. Everyone except the one he wanted to see most. 

_If this ghost has come to find me_ , Dimitri thought, staring at her, _why not him too? Stay with me, my friend. Cling to me. Don’t leave me on my own. You promised, didn’t you?_

_You promised._  
  


∑ 

If anything, he felt worse and worse as the days leaked by.

He knew he was being irresponsible, but that’s what revenge demanded of him. That was what the _world_ demanded of him. He dragged himself into the most dangerous situations on purpose. If they followed, it was on them. If they wanted to save him, it was already too late. These are things he told himself. Repeated. 

“It’s not worth this,” Felix said. “You’ve always had a lust for blood, but this is absurd. You’re driving yourself mad.”

“And taking the rest of us with you,” Sylvain said, soft like he didn’t mean for anyone to hear. 

“Then leave,” Dimitri told them. “Leave and don’t come back.” 

He saw Ashe look away. _Good_ , he thought. _Look away from me._

_The only eyes I care for are those in the stars._  
  


∑ 

Each battle felt longer, more bloody. He could barely see through the red. It was a sea. Endless.

But then it changed. Something amid all the red. Something that would stick out even if he was completely blind. Dimitri saw him suddenly, again thought he must be dreaming. Tall. Strong. Stoic and… and beautiful. 

_How? How could it be?_

“D-Dedue,” he whispered. “Y-You—” 

“Later, Your Highness,” he said. “I will explain everything later. For now, let me join you in this fight.” 

Dimitri’s heart ached. He nodded, emotion jumping through him, cutting like a blade. They battled together like so many times before, and everything shifted, settled into place. 

In truth, Dimitri needed no explanation. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was life. A sudden burst of joy. 

He could almost taste it. Almost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! this is kind of a silly stupid little fic and it is very nerve-wracking to post to a new fandom but i have just been thinking about this idea a lot, so i hope u enjoyed this little bit of it. i know it's kinda short but.... ch2 will probably be a bit longer. anywho. i hope it's not too ...... oh my god i was just about to write ooc, what fucking year is it.
> 
> okay, anyway. thank u for reading. if u liked it let me know ! ;~;


	2. after

When the battle is won, Dimitri knows that everything is different, everything altered. Shifted just a few inches to the left and yet… it is all that he needed. Dedue has always made Dimitri think clearer. Made him realize what was real. What was true. 

They are resting, recuperating, and there is a silent moment of clarity. Dedue is standing there, strong as ever, beautiful as ever, and Dimitri could cry at the sight of him. His eye wells as his heart thumps in his throat. 

He is cut along his cheek, a scar over another scar. 

_How many between us,_ Dimitri wonders, tracing the lines with his eye. _Hundreds? A thousand cuts?_

If those long years of isolation were torture, then the goddess had forgotten the ultimate torture. The forfeiture of his life. Yes, they had forgotten to kill him. And now, Dedue is before him again, some glorious salvation looking down upon him, eyes warm and face hard. 

“How? How did you… what are you doing here?” Dimitri asks. “H-How did you get—”

“I knew that I must return to you,” Dedue says. “My place is here.” 

“I thought… I thought you were—” 

“I’m sorry,” Dedue says, and he bows his head as if there is something, anything to apologize for.

“I do not accept,” Dimitri says, and his mouth falls open, staring at Dedue. Real, living, _breathing_. A ghost that has risen from ash. “What _happened?_ ” 

“The rebellion we quelled so long ago,” Dedue says, “the men we spared.” 

“They _saved_ you?” 

“They were good men,” Dedue praises succinctly. 

_The best men_ , Dimitri thinks. _They saved him._

“My friend, I-I am so glad to see you once more,” Dimitri says, and his chest aches as he holds back his tears. “Y-Your hair…” 

Dedue wears a look of shock for a moment, and Dimitri can’t say that he isn’t overjoyed to see it. Dedue is good at hiding in plain sight. Whenever Dimitri can make him show something… that is a lovely moment. A little victory. 

“It is different, yes,” Dedue says, and he reaches up, idly touching the closely-shaved hair near his ear before looking Dimitri over. Suddenly, a wave of shame overwhelms Dimitri, and he looks away. “These years… I wish I could have been by your side.” 

“You, standing before me now… I would die a hundred times just for this,” Dimitri says, and he stares at the rest of their camp, the column of smoke reaching up into the night. 

“Your Highness—” Dedue starts, but he shakes his head. “Perhaps we should rejoin them.” 

“D-Don’t worry about them,” Dimitri says. “Come. We… I will find something for you to drink. Something to quench your thirst, and then… then you can tell me everything. Please. I—” 

“I don’t know if it’s the wisest decision, Your Highness.” 

Dimitri frowns. _What does he mean?_

“What do you mean?” Dimitri asks. “Speak plainly.” 

“I would hate for them to think I was occupying too much of your time,” Dedue says. “You will be crowned king when the fighting is done, and they will be some of the greatest lords and ladies in the kingdom.” 

“And what of it?” Dimitri asks. 

“And I want what is best for you,” Dedue says. 

“What is best for me is you,” Dimitri says, and for a second, he is alarmed at just how true it is, just how easily the truth came to the light. “I-I’m sorry. If that is an uncomfortable thing for me to have said, I just—”

“It is not uncomfortable,” Dedue answers easily. “I feel the same.” 

Dimitri stops as he’s about to answer. Does he know what he’s just said? Does he know if he’s telling the truth or if he’s lying just to spare Dimitri? 

“You cannot know that,” Dimitri says. “You don’t know how I’ve missed you.” 

“I know.” 

The wound of Dimitri’s lost eye aches, and he looks away as tears gather within him. 

“T-Then why bother with the rest of them?” Dimitri asks. 

“Because it is good to bother,” Dedue says, and when Dimitri looks back up, Dedue is smiling at him, rare and lovely. “And perhaps later… after the night has fallen, we will get the chance to talk.” 

“Y-Yes, all right,” Dimitri says. “You’re right.” 

“I am, Your Highness,” Dedue says, and Goddess, these years have changed him. These years have awakened something in him. 

Something that was always there, Dimitri notes, watching as he walks back across the campsite to rejoin the rest of them. They talk excitedly at him… well, Annette, Ashe, Mercedes, and Sylvain at least, waving their hands from side to side as they explain what’s transpired in these five years past. The professor stands alongside, nodding and smiling, quiet just like Dedue and just as secret with her emotions.

Dimitri watches as they rejoice, the dawn rising over them as his long night ends, as he finally awakens from the nightmare. 

Sylvain throws his arm around Dimitri’s shoulder, a little too close for comfort, but that’s always been Sylvain’s way. 

“Do you feel better now that he’s here beside you again?” Sylvain jests, but in Sylvain’s jests, there’s always a hint of truth, more even than he knows. 

“Yes,” Dimitri says, and when he blinks, it feels like he’s looking with both eyes again. “Much better.”  
  


∑

In the morning they will make haste to the monastery, but that night, they sleep in their tents under the stars. Dimitri strips himself of his furs before combing his hair back with his hands as he fastens it at the base of his neck. He is about to lose hope of their talk, but he should know better now. There is always hope. Always.

The flaps of the tents split, and Dedue climbs inside. 

Dimitri’s body aches to be against his, and he watches the broad of Dedue’s back as he closes the tent, the warm blue light of the deep evening coaxing them closer together. 

“I thought you would be sleeping,” Dimitri whispers. “Like the rest of them.” 

“They drank,” Dedue says, and he kneels opposite Dimitri, the tent too small for two men of their size at full height. 

There is something intimate about that, and Dimitri tries not to let on just how pleasing it is to him. 

“You didn’t?” Dimitri asks. “Drink?”

“You do not drink unless you are celebrating something,” Dedue says, the answer to a question that Dimitri didn’t ask. 

“I am celebrating tonight,” Dimitri says. 

“Then where is your wine?” Dedue asks, a smile curving onto his handsome face. “Is it not a custom in these lands to toast to good fortune?” 

He sits cross-legged in the nest of furs that Dimitri uses for bedclothes, nothing fanciful. Dimitri knows that it smells of him. Smells of the north. Smells of home. 

He goes to his trunk because he’s always got wine in the trunk. He’s just never had a good enough reason to drink it. 

He pulls the small tray out, setting the dusted bottled onto it. In a smaller box, there are two glasses wrapped in a layer of white wolf fur, and then a small soft layer of blue ceremonial silk, embroidered with his coat of arms. They are the glasses his parents toasted each other with on their wedding night. He unfurls them, setting them on opposite sides of the bottle of wine before unstopping it and pouring them full. 

“Tell me of your customs,” Dimitri says. “What do the people of Duscur do to celebrate good fortune?” 

“It depends,” Dedue says, and he takes his cup of wine, waiting for Dimitri to do the same. “What are we celebrating? A reunion?”

“Surely,” Dimitri says. 

“We go to the ocean,” Dedue says. “We join hands, and we…” and he shuts his eyes, looking peaceful as he speaks. “We let our bodies float. We let the goddess of the sea hold us in her arms. When we return to each other, we return to the water too. She is the great mother… the ocean.” 

“That’s lovely,” Dimitri says. “What other sorts of traditions for celebrating?” 

“Such as… for a new moon?”

“Yes,” Dimitri says. “What for a new moon?” 

“A feast for the moon goddess,” Dedue says. “Roasted fish with moonberry jelly. And when the crops are good… a feast for her wife, the sun. Breads toasted and slathered with honey butter.” 

“What for a battle well won?” Dimitri asks with great interest. 

“A fire,” Dedue says. He smiles at Dimitri. “And we’ve had one of those.” 

“Did you pray?” 

“I am almost always praying,” Dedue answers, and he taps the edge of his glass against Dimitri’s, making a lovely song ring out, only dampened by the canvas of the tent. “And you, Your Highness? Do you pray?” 

“I fear I’ve forgotten how,” Dimitri says, and he stares down at his wine. 

“Then are you asking for a lesson?” 

“If I was?” 

“Then I will teach you,” Dedue says, and the soft sound of his voice makes Dimitri look up. “What are you celebrating tonight? Truly, Your Highness?” 

“And if it was love?” Dimitri asks. “A foolish thing like that? What then?” 

“Then I think you should drink,” Dedue says, and he lifts his glass to his lips, watching Dimitri as he swallows, a long roll of his throat. 

Dimitri closes his eye as he drinks, tilting his head back and letting the sweet wine slip down his throat until there is nothing left in the glass. He sets it back down to the tray, mouth somehow drier than he started. Dedue smiles gently at him, mouth kissed with red. Dimitri’s gaze traces that line. 

“I am glad to be next to you again,” Dedue says, and he finishes his wine, gently pushing the tray out of the way as he gets closer to Dimitri, his gaze dripping down Dimitri’s body. 

“A-And I you,” Dimitri says. 

Dedue pulls him into an embrace, and Dimitri crushes himself into Dedue’s arms with more force than he probably needs. Still, he cannot hold himself back. All the rawness of his nerves, the skin peeled back to reveal the flesh… it is sensitive in the shivering air. Trembling at the slightest glance of wind. And Dedue… Goddess, he is the north wind. The strongest gales that Fodlan knows. 

“Your Highness,” Dedue says, “if you would like to talk more—” 

“I don’t want to talk,” Dimitri says, and he bites his lip between his teeth so hard that he can nearly taste metal. “Not anymore.” 

“You must know that you’ve only ever had to ask,” Dedue says, and his hand goes to the back of Dimitri’s neck, slipping underneath the band that ties his hair back. 

A terrible sound of want falls from Dimitri’s mouth, but he buries it into Dedue’s shoulder, hoping that he won’t be found out. 

It is a small hypocrisy, buried deep inside him. He wants, he will get so close to asking, but the words… he doesn’t think he could ever say them. Not with such honesty. And yet there is something so alluring about the feeling of Dedue’s hands on his skin… rough, gentle, warm. 

“Your Highness,” Dedue whispers. “May I kiss you?” 

Dimitri’s breath catches in his throat as he pulls back from the cradle of Dedue’s arms, almost too frightened of his desire to say yes. 

There were nights that he let himself dream of these trees bearing fruit, flesh soft and ripe and sweet. He thought of this instinct, this want, this arousal swimming just beneath the surface of his skin. He was caught between worlds once, restrained by nicety and then unraveling at the seams. Now… now, the ropes of the two of them are braiding together in some handsome plait, and he is finding the balance between these parts of himself. Now, he can admit that he has always loved the man who holds him, the man who tenderly asks permission to sip love from his lips. 

“Yes,” Dimitri says. “Yes, please.” 

They wait no longer, the waves of time lost crashing over them in a tide of cresting passion. Dimitri moans softly against Dedue’s mouth as Dimitri raises himself to his knees, hands holding Dedue by the face as Dedue clasps a hand at the back of Dimitri’s neck. 

Dimitri tastes something on Dedue’s tongue, fruit left in the sun and fresh sweet water and _hope_ , _opportunity_ , _a chance for redemption_. He knows that he does not deserve this, not even a fraction of Dedue’s love, but he will take it as long as it’s given to him freely. He will hold it so close to his heart that it might seep through his chest and absorb within him some of Dedue’s goodness, imparting some of his wonder with a single kiss. 

When he draws back, Dedue still holds him carefully, hands gentle along Dimitri’s neck and Dimitri’s waist as though he’s trying not to break him. 

_But I have already been broken,_ Dimitri thinks, _and you have always been the only thing that could put me back together again._

“Your Highness…” Dedue says, and his voice is so deep and strong that it sends a shiver along Dimitri’s spine. Each and every word a reminder that he is here. Again. Alive. Again. 

“You tempt me,” Dimitri whispers, and he looks down between them as his hands slip down to Dedue’s shoulders. “Your very presence here tempts me.” 

“You are the future king,” Dedue says, and when Dimitri looks up, he is wearing a small smile. Teasing. “Kings take as they like.” 

Dimitri knows what Dedue expects him to say, some half-truth. _I am no king. I will not be that kind of king. I will not take without asking. I will not demand the world yield to my whims and whimsies._

_But when it comes to you…_ Dimitri thinks, _when it comes to you, I cannot deny myself the pleasure of your love. Not if you let me try to take it._

He has lived these years not thinking of the consequences of his actions. He had given himself over totally to the madness, the eager lust. 

“Please,” Dimitri whispers, a plea for mercy. “Please, I… I need you.” 

“Need,” Dedue says, and he lowers his voice to a lovely, low tone as he scratches the half moons of his nails softly along the nape of Dimitri’s neck. “What do you know of need, Your Highness?” 

The words feel heavy as they dance along the air. Dimitri opens his mouth to speak, but Dedue closes the gap between them, licking into Dimitri’s mouth, tasting the shameful words. Yes, things are different now, so different and strange and wonderful, and Dimitri’s hands slip down Dedue’s body as they kiss, as they indulge in the warm midnight over and over again. 

Dedue pulls back only when they are both breathless, when the blush has risen so high on Dimitri’s cheeks that he can feel it boiling underneath him. 

Dimitri is struck dumb by the look on Dedue’s face, never so open and plainly read before. He strokes his thumb along the slick of Dedue’s bottom lip, and he wonders if Dedue realizes just how naked he looks. How sick with arousal. 

“Your Highness,” he whispers. 

“M-My name,” Dimitri says, “please.” 

Dedue pushes Dimitri back by the shoulders, and Dimitri lets himself fall, fall, fall, back against the furs, against his pillow. Dedue leans over him, hands at either side of Dimitri’s head, and Goddess, he looks regal from this angle. He looks like _he_ could be king. 

“What is it you want, Dimitri?” Dedue asks, and the sound of his name from Dedue’s lips is more than he can handle. 

He moans softly, hands reaching up to tug Dedue down towards him. Dedue is strong, though, an even match for him, and Dedue hovers over him, not letting him get exactly what he wants. What he needs… their bodies pressed together, hearts beating against each other. 

“I want you,” Dimitri whispers. “Please, let me have this. Please, now that you’re… now that you’re _back_ , let me show you how much you’ve always meant to me.” 

Dedue is silent as he takes Dimitri’s hands in his, gently pulling them away from his clothing. For a moment, it feels like rejection, but when Dimitri realizes Dedue is pulling himself from his clothes, his stomach pools warmly. 

He watches with great interest as Dedue pulls his scarf from around his neck, tossing it off to the side. He watches as Dedue strips himself of his mail, his cloth undershirt… Dedue reveals his bare chest, streaked with scars, and Dimitri feels less alone in the world. Less inclined to the heat of shame. 

When Dedue kneels between Dimitri’s legs, Dimitri nearly whimpers. The sight is something unfamiliar to him, the welling emotions and sensations too overwhelming, too much like a dream. Some fantasy he might have clung to in order to crawl himself _here_ , the moment where it becomes reality. 

Dedue touches him carefully, and Dimitri can tell that he’s nervous, hand shaking in an uncharacteristic way as he pets down Dimitri’s obliques to frame Dimitri’s hips with his palms. 

“Your Highness,” Dedue says, voice low like he is scared to be caught, “may I touch you?” 

Dimitri has never been so hard, not in his entire life, and he feels himself flex as Dedue looks down at his body. 

“P-Please,” Dimitri says, and he unties his pants, shoving them inelegantly down his waist as he lifts his hips up. “Please, I—” 

But Dedue needs no further instruction, helping Dimitri pull his trousers off by the ankles. He is naked on the furs as Dedue looks over him, a certain hunger in his eyes that Dimitri never noticed or knew of before. 

He takes Dimitri’s hand in a curious hand, and it is like nothing he’s ever felt before. His back bows as pleasure fractures him like shattered glass as Dedue strokes up and down to a feverishly slow rhythm, taking his time to tear Dimitri down to nothing but blood and bone. 

“D-Dedue,” Dimitri whispers. “Please, I—” 

“You only need ask,” Dedue says, but his eyes are fixed on the movement of his hand, his grip tight on Dimitri’s cock like he doesn’t want to let go. 

“L-Let me touch you,” Dimitri says softly. “Please.” 

Dedue’s gaze meets Dimitri’s, and Dimitri breathes out slowly, his chest collapsing as Dedue reaches down to the tie of his pants, pulling it loose and freeing himself. 

Dimitri’s mouth is dry when he sees Dedue fist his cock loosely, and he moans as he reaches for him. Dedue slips into Dimitri’s touch, and oh, it is like nothing else. The feeling is pure power, the arousal thrumming through him like the break of day. Dedue makes a tenuous sound as he lowers himself to thrust into the touch, Dimitri’s hands clutched around their cocks, slipping together like they were born for a moment like this. 

Dimitri buries his teeth in his bottom lip as he tries to stop from calling out Dedue’s name, a desperate plea, and when Dedue thrusts his hips, Dimitri makes a whine of surprise. 

“D-Dedue,” Dimitri whispers. “Please, I…” 

“Would you like me to touch you, Your Highness?” Dedue whispers, and it’s so close to Dimitri’s ear, sending bolts of lightning through him, ricocheting through his bones. 

Dedue gets back onto his knees between Dimitri’s split legs, and he touches them both with the same hand, slow and certain as if he’s been thinking about this. 

_Did he know this would happen when he returned to me? Did he want for this to happen too? Has he always felt about me the way I’ve always felt about him?_

Dimitri moans, a shocked noise pouring out of his mouth and Dedue quickly leans back down to kiss him quiet. He moans into Dedue’s mouth, moans loudly now that it is caught between the two of them. Just for the two of them. 

He is losing himself in the gentle push and pull, the inherent eroticism of Dedue’s hands moving like ocean waves, and he tries to think about anything else as he holds himself back from tumbling over the edge, desperate to cling to these fleeting moments just a little bit longer. 

“I-I, I don’t think I can…” 

“Dimitri,” Dedue whispers, and that’s too much, the sound of his name. 

Hot light fills him, and much as he tries to claw the earth to find his footing, he has no choice but to give himself over to the lust. Red spools of warmth unfurl under his skin, and his stomach tenses as he spends over his stomach, mouth wet as he kisses Dedue hard along the neck so that he doesn’t scream into the silent evening. 

Dedue lifts himself up over Dimitri, staring down at the mess he’s made. Dimitri has only a moment to feel embarrassed before that hollow feeling is filled with want… a want to pull Dedue over the edge alongside him. 

He holds himself with one hand as he wraps his hand around his cock, and Dimitri reaches down with one of his own, slick with come, tight around the head of Dedue’s cock. 

“Come,” Dimitri says, and the words are whispered along the hard line of Dedue’s shoulder blade, Dimitri’s tongue tracing along it after he’s through. 

He tightens his hand, hears the small cracking of Dedue’s resolve when he twists his wrist and makes a moan leak out. Dimitri looks up, delighted, and Dedue is staring down at him, lips red, mouth open… _begging to be kissed_. 

Dimitri surges up to meet him, tangling their tongues together as he touches him, as he pulls the last of Dedue’s resolve away like chipping paint. There is something magnificent under the surface, torrential and warm like the summer showers they get in the south. Dimitri echoes Dedue’s moans as they are poured into him, and when Dedue spends over Dimitri’s stomach, Dimitri feels it rattle through him. It feels nearly as good as his own, just as toe-curling, just as _heart-pounding_.

Dedue breaks the kiss as he breaks the surface of the water, desperate for air. They share the same breath, it seems, and Dimitri huffs out a laugh as he throws his arms around Dedue’s neck, making sure that Dedue collapses on top of him. 

It is the first time that Dedue rests on Dimitri, the first time he feels the true weight of him pressing Dimitri down into the earth. He closes his eyes against the lovely feeling, trying to commit every inch of the portrait to memory. 

“Your Highness—,” Dedue starts, a soft, gritty sound that makes Dimitri groan happily. 

“Later,” Dimitri whispers. “After.” 

“As you wish,” Dedue says, and Dimitri can hear Dedue’s smile as a kiss is pressed to his hair.  
  


∑

He jolts awake from sleep, a kick in his body that he can’t control. He was dreaming, he thinks, a recurring nightmare. That night. His rescue from the tall tower. Watching Dedue’s eyes close. Something sick. Something maleficent. Something foul.

Dimitri is breathing heavily when he wakes, and he struggles against the arms that hold him for a second before his body relaxes, catching up with his mind. _I am safe. He is safe. We have found each other once more. We will never be apart again._

“I’m sorry,” Dimitri whispers. 

“Do you dream often?” Dedue asks, and the words rumble through Dimitri. 

“Yes.” 

“I dream as well,” Dedue answers, and Dimitri shuts his eye. “Nightmares.” 

“I wish they would stop,” Dimitri says, and he lowers his voice to an even stiller quiet, the glass top of the water unchanging. “I wish it would end.” 

“It will.” 

“How can you know such a thing? How can you know that I don’t… that I don’t deserve it?” 

“Much has changed,” Dedue says. “It is all right, Your Highness. I have returned now, and our battles will be won.” 

“I have done so much harm,” Dimitri confesses. “You saw the way they looked at me. You don’t know what harm I’ve done.” 

“All will be forgiven with time,” Dedue says, and Dimitri closes his eye, listens to the sound of Dedue’s breathing. A steady rhythm. Humming. 

Dimitri falls silent, and in the silence, they find some comfort. At the very least, Dimitri does. 

“They would never understand,” Dedue says. “They could not understand someone like you.” 

“You are giving me too much credit, I fear,” Dimitri says softly. 

“No, they don’t give you enough,” Dedue says. His face is hard and even. “They’ve never understood. Not truly.” 

“Dedue, I—”

“Your Highness, I have had a long time to think,” Dedue says. “To speak to the people of my country. To understand them. What’s been done to them. To _us_. W-We were no more than boys, but now… now we are men.” 

“We are,” Dimitri says. 

“We have the power to change,” Dedue says. “To right wrongs.” 

“And we will,” Dimitri says. “When the war is won, I will do whatever I can to punish those who… w-who laid waste to those lands. To your people.” 

Dedue’s mouth is small then, and he looks down to his hands. They have always been big, rough but somehow still soft. Dimitri wishes he could feel them against his face once more. He reaches down. Takes one in his. Places it against his cheek. 

“Do you believe in the things you say?” Dedue asks, and Dimitri can barely see him now, the night so cold and dark. 

“With all my heart,” Dimitri says. 

There is a beat of silence pulled tight between them. The balance of a blade along it would be enough to slice it in twain. 

“I will follow you to the end,” Dedue says, and Dimitri takes that for what it is. A truth. Dedue always speaks honestly, from his heart. 

Maybe someday, they can talk about other things. Prettier things.  
  


∑

The journey back to the monastery is pleasant. Dimitri’s always liked a good ride, and with Dedue at his side once more, everything seems to have fallen into place. He can see a bit clearer, can understand things with a bit more empathy and compassion.

Sylvain closes the gap between them, riding at his right, Dedue at his left. 

“So, Your Highness,” Sylvain says, “what’s our next move?” 

“I think it would be wise to reconvene at the monastery,” Dimitri says. “Discuss our next options for advancement.” He looks at Sylvain, and he is nodding. “What?” 

“You seem… you seem better,” Sylvain says, and Dimitri raises an eyebrow at him. “Okay, farewell for now.” 

Sylvain falls back in the group, letting Dimitri and Dedue lead. 

He looks to Dedue, and Dedue looks at him. 

“What was that all about?” Dimitri asks. 

“He is checking,” Dedue says simply. 

“Checking what?” 

“To see if you’ve changed,” Dedue says. 

“Have I?” Dimitri asks. “Awoken from a rage of some sort? 

“You’ve not awoken from anything,” Dedue says. “You’ve made a choice. A choice to help.” 

Dedue looks forward, sitting tall in his saddle, and Dimitri looks off towards the horizon line, chasing the trail back to Garreg Mach. Dedue is right. It was not some great awakening. He was never an animal. He was never unreachable. 

But Dedue was always there to remind him of what mattered most. Wisdom, compassion, and yes, justice. These things should always work together. When you lose one, you lose your way. 

Now that he has remembered this, he is right on the path. He can ride freely with the right person at his side. He can be who he was meant to be. He can do as he was meant to do. Right the wrongs. Change the tides.  
  


∑

It feels strange to be back in his old quarters, even now. So much has changed, they’ve done so much, and still… some things remain unchanged.

He sets his things down as he unpacks, and as he strokes a gloved hand over the lid of his trunk, he wonders if Dedue has thought about that night since. They’ve treated each other much as they did before, before the war, before everything… Dimitri would hate for them to step backward instead of forward. He is sure that they’re just beginning to truly understand each other.

He washes the sweat of the ride away in the evening before the feast in the hall, and he combs his hair with his fingers before pinning a couple pieces back to show his face. He wants to show the rest of them that he has chosen life, but he can’t think of how. Can’t think of anything besides… embracing the camaraderie. 

He goes to the feast, and after the bounty of food, there is music and dancing. Dimitri engages, whirling Mercedes in his arms as the fiddlers play. 

“You look much more handsome when you’re happy,” Mercedes praises cheerfully. 

“Thank you,” Dimitri says. “A-And I’m sorry.” 

“As I always said, you must live in the present. Now that our dear classmate has rejoined us...” she smiles, looking back over his shoulder. It forces Dimitri to turn to look, glancing at Dedue, arms folded across his face but face downright jovial as he listens to Annette. Dedue suddenly glances up and they lock in a gaze for a second before Dimitri looks away, embarrassed, “Well, it seems like you have decided to rejoin us once more as well… here in the present.” 

Dimitri gently squeezes her hand in his, and she steps closer. 

“Thank you,” Dimitri says. 

“Whatever for?” she laughs, and the night goes on. 

In truth, there is no time for self-loathing. He has made countless mistakes, killed far too many, and yet the world turns on. Nothing stops the earth. He could have either died with his ghosts or live… live with these people he loves. 

He chooses love. He chooses to live.  
  


∑

Much later in the evening, he is undressing in his quarters when he hears a knock on the door.

His stomach leaps as he turns, hurriedly pulling his shirt back into place before opening the door to reveal… Dedue. Dimitri’s heart races inside him as he steps back, gently moving to the side so that Dedue can step into the room before shutting the door behind him. 

“Your Highness,” Dedue bows, a hand at his chest. 

“Bowing, titles,” Dimitri says. “Aren’t we passed all that now?” 

Dedue stands up straight, so tall and so strong. Dimitri’s mouth goes dry as he looks him over, overwhelmed with just how lovely he is. With how well the years have treated him. 

“It is a sign of my respect for you,” Dedue says. “Do you wish I respected you less?” 

“Perhaps,” Dimitri says. “I deserve less respect.” 

“I thought we had agreed that I would not tolerate this kind of nonsense,” Dedue says simply. “I heard Mercedes speaking to you. She’s quite good at getting you to stop.” 

“Shall I call for her?” 

“Wouldn’t I be the one fetching her?” Dedue smiles coyly. “Do you think with a midnight stroll, she would share her secrets with me?” 

“Don’t… Don’t act as though she’s got some way o-of _taming_ me,” Dimitri says, and he can feel the heat streak across his face. 

“Who does then?” Dedue wonders, and he steps closer to Dimitri. “I spoke to Felix at the feast. He had some choice words about your deeds during my absence, if you’d believe it.” 

“I would. I-I was lost,” Dimitri says softly, staring at the eyes in the wooden floor. 

“What was the difference?” Dedue asks, and his hand comes to rest gently upon Dimitri’s face, pulling his gaze up. “What changed?” 

_Everything about you makes me want to be a better man_ , Dimitri thinks, his gaze lingering at the curve of Dedue’s lips. 

“You returned to me,” Dimitri whispers. 

Dedue breathes out softly before kissing Dimitri softly, just another little sign of affection. They have dedicated so much to each other now. They have done so much together, and still Dimitri would like to do more. See more. _Together._

“Your Highness,” Dedue whispers, his lips gentle across Dimitri’s cheek. 

“Please,” Dimitri says, and he takes Dedue’s collar in his hands, pulling him towards the bed. His body already thrums red, the kind of wavering heat that demands him disrobe. “Please, kiss me.” 

Dedue obliges him, licking into Dimitri’s mouth easily as if they’ve done this a hundred, a thousand times. And in Dimitri’s dreams, perhaps they have. 

Their clothes come off just as easy as the first time, if not easier. Practice makes perfect after all, he thinks. He finishes his undressing, but now, he is with someone. He is with Dedue. 

He pushes Dedue back onto the bed when they’re both naked, trembling in the fires of their own making. Dedue watches Dimitri, leaning up on his elbows as Dimitri climbs over him. He takes Dedue’s cock in his hand as he kneels down between his legs, kissing the head wetly. Dedue lets out a shuddering sound, a nonverbal _Again_. 

Dimitri obeys the command, and he watches Dedue through his eyelashes as he kisses the head of Dedue’s cock, sliding a spit-slick fist down. Dedue falls down onto his back as Dimitri decides to kiss him earnestly, enjoying the powerful way the arousal spirals through him whenever Dedue groans, flexes, thrusts into his mouth. He sucks him down, luxuriating in it, the primal nature that rages through him. This, he thinks to himself, if only he had _this_ forever… 

“Dimitri,” he whispers. “Dimitri, I—”

“Yes,” Dimitri says, and he rubs the tip against the seam of his lips as he speaks, letting the vibrations tremble down. “What is it?” 

“W-Would you let me taste you?” 

Dimitri looks up, sick with lust as he stares into Dedue’s eyes. There is nothing better than this, he thinks, being in love and sharing in each other’s warmth, because as he moves himself into position so that they can both give the same kind of pleasure to each other, he is aware of the beauty of it. It is not just basic, primal urges. There is something lovely, something soft and sweet about this. They treat each other tenderly, and when Dedue touches his cock, begins to tentatively press kisses to the head of it, Dimitri idly wishes that he could look into his eyes or find the perfect words to say to capture how he’s feeling. 

_I love you_ , he thinks. _Those are the perfect words. No less true because of their simplicity… I love you._

They kiss and suck and lave their tongues over each other, fingers holding each other by the hips as they gently rock back and forth into the wet warmth of the other. Dimitri cannot bite back the moans as they rise to the surface, murmuring through Dedue as they boil over. Sex is the divine circle, he muses to himself, the unending basking in the bounty of someone else. And love… love is that circle intertwined with another, a looping infinity, unbroken and unbent. 

Their wet hands explore as they experiment, new lands of love never journeyed before, and they come just like that, rising waves that crest onto the other. Dimitri’s throat rolls as he swallows what Dedue offers him, and he drinks every drop as if it was a sweet wine, stomach turning with heat as he too spills into Dedue’s mouth. 

When he sits up straight to stare down at Dedue, he is nearly overcome with the desire to do it all over again. His body is strong, curving with muscle and scars, and Dimitri would like to worship every inch of it, hands, mouth, and heart. 

“What is it?” Dedue asks breathlessly. 

“You look… you look beautiful,” Dimitri answers honestly. 

Dedue, for his part, looks bashful. He’s never seen that look before. Dimitri decides he quite likes it. 

Dedue pulls Dimitri into a kiss a moment later, their naked bodies lined with sweat as they wrap each other in blankets. A satisfaction washes over him, much the same as the first time, and Dimitri thinks that the more they do it, the more satisfying it gets. He’d like to do it again and again, but Dedue seems to like to rest after. He tries patience. Tries introspection. 

As they relax in each other’s arms, Dimitri lets his mind wander, staring at the ceiling. This room... It reminds him of their days as nothing more than boys. How far they’ve come, how much they’ve grown. They are men now, through and through. 

Might things be different if they had come to know each other then as they do now? He lets himself dream of the impossible possibilities as Dedue’s warmth cloaks him. 

“What are you thinking?” Dedue asks quietly, voice trembling through Dimitri’s body. 

Dimitri turns, resting his head on Dedue’s chest as they lie there, wrapped in each other. 

“Will you laugh at me?”

“Why would I laugh?” Dedue asks, furrowing his brow. “Were you thinking something funny?” 

“No,” Dimitri says. “Perhaps only a bit… shameful.” 

“You do not need to be ashamed of anything, Your Highness,” Dedue says, and he lifts Dimitri’s hand to his mouth, curling it into a fist so that he can press a kiss to Dimitri’s knuckles. “You may confide in me whatever you wish.” 

Dimitri adjusts himself in the embrace, settling himself on the pillow so that he might look into Dedue’s eyes. _My_ , he thinks, _how lovely and warm._

“I was thinking that it would have been so nice to have this while we were at the monastery together,” Dimitri says, and Dedue splits into a smile. “You said you wouldn’t laugh.” 

“I am not laughing, Your Highness.” 

Dimitri reaches out, strokes his fingers along the scar on Dedue’s cheek. 

“As good as a laugh,” he whispers. “Why?” 

“We _are_ at the monastery together,” Dedue says, and he takes his hand from Dimitri’s waist, gestures to Dimitri’s quarters. “Aren’t we?” 

“You knew what I meant,” Dimitri says, squinting as he reaches up, takes Dedue’s hand in his. “Before. Before all of this started. Back when things were good.” 

There is a moment of soft, gentle quiet, the type that Dedue deals well in. Dimitri blinks against it, staring into Dedue’s eyes. He is able to hide so much. Dimitri wishes he could be more like that. A bit stronger. Less bleeding. Less open. 

Less like a fresh wound. 

“Were they ever?” Dedue asks.

“Good?” Dimitri asks, and Dedue nods. It fills him with regret. He’s misspoken. “No, of course they weren’t, you’re right. But I think… I think I was happy once. When I was with you here.” 

“Whenever you were happy, I was happy,” Dedue whispers. 

Dimitri’s heart aches inside his chest, and he leans forward, pressing another kiss to Dedue’s lips. Dedue breathes in sharply, hand slipping from Dimitri’s hand to his waist to the small of his back, pressing their bodies together again. 

“I felt guilt once,” Dedue says softly. “For not hating you as I thought I should. Same as I felt guilt for being by your side when I knew that people would ridicule you for it. I was… I was caught.” 

“I understand,” Dimitri says, tries to keep his voice as gentle as he can manage. “I’m sorry.” 

“Do you know what you’re sorry for?” 

“As long as I am living, you feel bound by me,” Dimitri says, “and I wish… I wish I had rid you of your service. I wish I could free you of me.” 

There is silence, an uncertain sort, and Dimitri dare not break it before Dedue does. 

“If I left,” Dedue asks, “would you follow me?” 

“F-Follow you?” Dedue nods. “Would you want me to follow?” 

“That is not the question I asked you, Your Highness.” 

“I-I would want to honor your wishes,” Dimitri confesses. “A-And if you wished to leave me, this part of your life, in the past… then I know that I would learn to understand.” 

Dedue stares at him, and not for the first time, Dimitri wishes he could read his mind. It has always been obvious to Dimitri that there was much more going on within Dedue than he let on, but they are so close now… as close as two men could be. Surely, if Dedue wanted something, he would only ask. Surely, Dedue knew that Dimitri had dedicated himself to living because of Dedue… right? 

“I am freed,” Dedue says, and he shuts his eyes. “Once I think… once I thought that perhaps it would be easier if I had just died there with my brothers.” 

“If you had died, then I would have died too,” Dimitri says. “Would it have been better that way?” 

“Not better,” Dedue says. “Easier, perhaps.” 

“I’m sorry,” Dimitri says, and everything inside him collapses. “I’m so sorry.” 

“I am glad to have lived,” Dedue says, opening his eyes to look at Dimitri. “Because together, we might still have a chance to win this awful war. To fix things as best we can.” He takes Dimitri’s hand in his, curling it into a fist only so that he can press a kiss to Dimitri’s knuckles. “Maybe it is foolish of me, but as long as we are both living, I am filled with hope.”

“C-Can it be done?” Dimitri asks. “Just the two of us?” 

“No,” Dedue says, “but I have hope because you gave me your word. And you have never gone back on a promise.” He stares at Dimitri, plain and lovely. “That’s why I never went back on mine.” 

The immensity of Dedue’s life hits Dimitri then. The immensity of this beautiful person carrying so much inside him. Torture and pain and war, blood and fire and scarred flesh, but _hope_. _Hope and love._ More light than the sun itself. 

They rest in each other’s arms, and it is warm, reminiscent of a time that doesn’t exist. A nostalgic future. A blessed peace.  
  


∑

When Dimitri wakes in the middle of the night, it is because Dedue is shaking in his sleep. Dimitri clings to him, holds him as still as he can manage before Dedue kicks himself awake.

“Shh,” Dimitri whispers. “It’s all right. You’re safe.” 

“Your Highness,” Dedue says, and his voice is pulled tight with emotion. “I’m sorry.” 

“ _Dimitri_ ,” he chastises. “And there is nothing to be sorry for.” 

Dedue relaxes into the bed once more, wrapped in the covers and in Dimitri’s arms. He rests his head on Dimitri’s chest, and Dimitri pushes his fingers through Dedue’s hair, listening to the sound of his answer: a pleasant hum. They lie there in the embrace for a great long while, and Dimitri thinks to himself that it is a near perfect evening. 

It is the perfect time of night for confessions, Dimitri tells himself. The perfect night. 

“You’ve always made me stronger than I could be on my own,” Dimitri says softly. “You gave me hope when I couldn’t find any within myself.” 

“Then I am glad,” Dedue says. “It has always been my dream to help however I can.” 

Dimitri shuts his eye, and the nightmares seep from one to the other. 

“Y-You aren’t doing this just for my sake, are you?” Dimitri asks, suddenly horrified and sickened by the idea. “N-Not just because you find yourself in my service? I-If that is the case, I would ask that you spare me these kindnesses, and—” 

Dedue leans up, hand cupping Dimitri’s cheek, and Dimitri sees the most worried look streaked across Dedue’s face. Red paint, blood, or fear… Dimitri can’t decide. 

“Your Highness, has anyone ever told you how foolish you are?” 

“For a future king, too many times, I would wager.” 

“My service to you has always been born of admiration,” Dedue whispers. “Admiration for your honor, your respect, your choices… we became friends long ago, didn’t we? It was because I admired you. A-And it is often that admiration turns to love.” 

“Love, you say?” Dimitri asks softly, afraid that he might be dreaming. 

“I have loved you for many years, Your Highness,” Dedue says. “And just because I’ve only just now said it aloud doesn’t mean it hasn’t always been true.” 

He hadn’t let himself dream of this. Hadn’t wanted to take advantage. Is there any way to love Dedue that isn’t deeply complicated, rich with trauma and old blood? No, Dimitri thinks. There isn’t. But that doesn’t mean he shouldn’t let himself bathe in this, the sweet, warm water, does it? 

“Do you promise?” Dimitri says, feeling so young. 

Dedue smiles. “Yes, Your Highness. I promise.” 

He leans in, kisses Dimitri quiet for a moment. He is beginning to get used to such a thing, the unspoken promise between them, lips pressed together. 

Dedue pulls back slowly, and he smiles at Dimitri, something like the sun on dewdrops. 

“And you?” 

“And I?” Dimitri asks stupidly. 

“Do you promise?” Dedue asks. He nuzzles into the crook of Dimitri’s neck, pressing a kiss to the softest spot. 

“Yes,” Dimitri whispers, the sound soft as velvet. “Yes, I promise. From this day until the end of my days, I will love you.” 

Dedue kisses his mouth again, and normally, Dimitri is looking between the lines, trying to spot the perforations. Between them, the two of them, they are wide open, but Dimitri can only see love. Red and warm and blooming love.  
  


∑

In light of the new developments, Dimitri wishes he could put an end to things more succinctly. With less casualties. With less unnecessary death.

Alas, the war is too far gone now. They are too entrenched in their ways. Edelgard… he does not hate her anymore. He’s never really understood her, and he started a war before he even got the chance to try. 

“It’s never too late,” Dedue advises him, chin hooked over Dimitri’s shoulder in the early morning sun. 

“You don’t know her the way I know her,” Dimitri says. “All that we have left now is our pride. She won’t want to see hers ruined.” 

“Do you have pride, Your Highness?” Dedue asks, and Dimitri looks back over his shoulder to find Dedue smiling at him. “Forgive my impudence.” 

Dimitri rolls his eye. “You’re very funny.” 

“I would like to think so,” Dedue says, and his hands stroke down Dimitri’s chest possessively. “Must we train?” 

“Don’t you like to?” Dimitri says. “It’s good to get the blood moving early in the morning.” 

“I much prefer the greenhouse,” Dedue says, and he pushes his hand down Dimitri’s stomach. “If you need to get the blood moving, though—” 

“What are you suggesting?” Dimitri asks carefully. 

“We shouldn’t skip a sparring session,” Dedue says, just as careful. “And yet… it’s always good fun to make Felix vengeful.” 

Dedue’s hand circles Dimitri’s soft cock as they sit there in the breaking dawn, the sun pouring in from the window. Dimitri watches with interest as Dedue touches him, stroking his cock to hardness. 

Now that he’s had a taste of it, it’s all he hungers for. The sweetness of love. 

“Since when have you enjoyed toying with Felix?” Dimitri asks breathlessly. 

“Right now, Your Highness, I only enjoy toying with you,” Dedue says, and Dimitri swallows a laugh so that he can moan in its stead. “Does it feel good?” 

“Yes,” Dimitri whispers. 

“Stay here with me for a while,” Dedue whispers. “And then we will spar and we will ride and we will hone our blades. But for now…” 

“Yes,” Dimitri agrees, “yes, after. A-And the greenhouse too.” 

“As you wish, Your Highness,” Dedue says, and Dimitri can hear the smile.  
  


∑

They meet over their next moves, and for each battle they take, it seems like they are losing more than they gain. Dimitri worries over everything now, weighing the pros and the cons of each little movement. He listens well to the council of his compatriots, but in the end, there is one he listens to above all else.

They find themselves in Dimitri’s bed on more than one occasion, every time finding new joys within each other’s embrace. Nights are longer on the road, but Dedue beside him, touching him and tasting him… it makes it all seem shorter. A little kinder. More beautiful. 

“I confess, after the Merceus capture, I am at a loss,” Dimitri whispers, the bedclothes pulled over them like a shield, their naked bodies pressed against each other in a long line. “There is only one place left to take.” 

“Enbarr,” Dedue whispers. 

“Yes.” 

“Then, it shall be done,” Dedue says, and he sounds… weakened. 

Dimitri turns in the embrace, chin upon Dedue’s chest. He watches him carefully, studying the way Dedue’s gaze avoids his own. Hiding something, Dimitri is sure of it. He must now only suss out what there is to hide now. 

“What is it?” Dimitri asks quietly. “You must know that you can tell me anything.” 

“I had a thought,” Dedue says. 

“And will you share it with me?” 

Dedue finally breaks his gaze into the middle distance to look at Dimitri, a kind smile written across his face. He leans down to kiss Dimitri, a chaste, pure thing that Dimitri holds close to his heart. 

“A meeting,” Dedue suggests. “We must at least give her the chance to explain. To share her side of things.” 

“You believe that? Even after all she’s done?” Dimitri asks. 

“The burden of compassion weighs upon us all,” Dedue says softly, “but that does not mean we can allow ourselves to simply drop the weight from our shoulders. Who, then, would be left to carry it? None but the dead.” 

“You’re right, of course,” Dimitri says. 

“And if it goes well—” Dedue suggests. 

“Then maybe the war will end a bit sooner than we planned,” Dimitri whispers, pressing the words alongside a kiss, the flesh scarred under his lips. 

“We would have time for other matters,” Dedue says, his voice trailing off into a moan as Dimitri tongues around Dedue’s nipple, hand stroking across his chest. 

“Other matters?” Dimitri teases. “Such as?” 

“Your Highness, I’m certain that we could find ways to fill our time.” 

Dimitri climbs onto Dedue, pressing his erection against Dedue’s as they begin to grind against each other. If nothing else, they will always have this. A never-ending love.  
  


∑

They set camp in the fields, and they send a letter to Edelgard’s front lines, knowing that anything bearing a royal seal will pass through like a leaf resting along a river’s surface, floating around the curves and bends. When it comes to the morning of the proposed meeting, Dimitri dances with anticipation, with nerves. Dedue readies him in the tent that morning, threading him into his cloak, and Dimitri is thankful for his presence. He needs it with him always.

“Accompany me, won’t you?” Dimitri says. 

“It would not be my place,” Dedue says. 

“Your place,” Dimitri scoffs. “You said it yourself, did you not? It’s always been by my side.” 

“Your Highness,” Dedue whispers, and he buries his hands in the furs of Dimitri’s cloak, pulling him over to kiss him gently. “Perhaps the professor instead.” 

The kiss very nearly distracts Dimitri entirely. 

“You wear pride well, I know that now,” Dimitri says. “Let me dress you in it. You deserve to be there just as much as I do.” 

Dedue hides a smile before petting the furs down with the palms of his hands. 

“As you wish, Your Highness,” he says, and he turns, parting the tent’s curtain to watch the sun in the sky. “Come. It is time.” 

Dedue escorts him to the meeting place, and he waits with his heart in his mouth. When he sees the red of her dress in the distance, he nearly faints. He never let himself believe that she would come. That perhaps this could end with the both of them living. 

But it goes on and on, round and round in circles. He thinks of all the evil they’ve committed between the two of them. All of the wrong. And he wishes… wishes so desperately that they could put it behind them now. 

“The time has come for peace,” Dimitri tries. “Why cling to this infernal war? Why, when it hurts our people so? When the cries of pain echo out over the plains and through the canyons?” 

“Dimitri,” Edelgard says gently, like she truly believes it, “I am not hurting. I am healing. I am _freeing_ them from the ties that bind.” 

“So it must be,” Dimitri whispers. 

“Yes,” Edelgard says. “So it must.” 

“Thank you for meeting,” he tries. “I… I hope that the future is kind to us both.” 

“I wish it could be so. Our fates will be decided,” she says. “And no matter which of us stands at the end, this world will be changed.” She turns, and Hubert turns with her. “I will await your arrival.” 

They watch as she walks away, and not for the first time, Dimitri wishes that she could speak more plainly to him. That she could tell him everything that she hides. 

_If only we were more honest with each other_ , he thinks, _this could be over and done with._

“I am proud of you, Your Highness,” Dedue whispers. “Come, let’s go back to our tent.” 

_Our_ , Dimitri thinks weakly. _Heaven is the word_ our. _Heaven sounds like the word_ we.  
  


∑

Their preparations are swift, and they gather their troops to march on the capital city at once. They make haste, and Dimitri is glad of it. He would rather not prolong this horrible fighting, wanting more than anything to see the end and perhaps, if he lets himself dream, _the after._

The night before their final assault, Dimitri holds Dedue in his arms, and the fervor overtakes him, the anxiety drifting to nervous arousal as they embrace. Each kiss tastes more desperate, each touch feels more like an eager cling to life. 

_Yes,_ Dimitri thinks. _To life. To him._

Dedue rolls Dimitri on top of him, and their bodies meeting in a slick, familiar slide against one another. Dimitri whispers praise into Dedue’s ear, words of Dedue’s beauty and Dimitri’s ardor, and Dedue’s hands come to Dimitri’s shoulders, squeezing hard. 

“What is it?” Dimitri asks, voice edging towards a tease. “Will I make you come too quickly?” 

“N-No, Your Highness,” Dedue whispers. “Something else.” 

“What do you want?” Dimitri asks. “Ask, for you know that I would give you anything.” 

“I wish to know you in the most intimate ways a person can know another,” Dedue whispers. “I wish to have you.” 

“And so you do,” Dimitri says softly, kissing into the hollow of Dedue’s neck, sucking a mark to his skin. “Can you feel me against you? You will have me until the end of our days.” 

Dedue breathes out a moan, and Dimitri’s stomach tenses at the sound. 

“Inside,” Dedue whispers, and his hands slip between their bodies, taking Dimitri’s cock in his closed fists. He moves Dimitri lower, guiding him against the clutch of his body, the tight circle of him. “Here.” 

Dimitri nearly chokes on his groan as his hips kick forward. 

“H-How?” Dimitri asks. “Tell me how and I will—”

Dedue reaches under the furs, and he pulls a bottle of oil from the sheets. Dimitri gets onto his knees, watching with interest as Dedue coats his fingers with the slick, shimmery oil. He watches as Dedue pets down his body, easily slipping a finger inside himself. Almost as if he’s done it before. 

“Have you been thinking of this?” Dimitri whispers. 

“More than thinking,” Dedue confesses, and Dimitri wonders _how_ , _when_. “Won’t you touch me?” 

Dimitri trips over himself as he reaches for the oil, sliding a finger into the hot, wet grip of Dedue’s body alongside one of Dedue’s own. They thrust in tandem, stroking and shearing as they seek to open Dedue’s body, open each other more to the wonders of love. 

“Dimitri,” Dedue whispers wantonly, a blush riding high and red across his cheeks as he withdraws his touch, hips working down against Dimitri’s hand. “Please, Your Highness.” 

Dimitri pushes two of his fingers inside, admiring the way Dedue takes what he wants, displays all the beauty of his affection like this. _This is love_ , Dimitri thinks in awe. _I’ve found it._

“I’m ready,” Dedue whispers, working a fist over his cock as he stares at Dimitri’s body, the maze of scars. “Please.” 

He need not ask again, and still, Dimitri is glad of it. _Need me the way I need you. Treasure me the way I treasure you. Please. Please_

He slicks himself with the oil, and the first press of his cock against Dedue nearly makes him whimper. Dedue takes him well, easily, almost as if this has been something he’s wanted for a while. Something Dimitri’s been blind to. 

“My love,” Dimitri whispers, slow as he pushes himself inside inch by inch. “My heart… you are without equal.” 

“I love you,” Dedue whispers, and _oh,_ those words from such beautiful lips, Dimitri could die. 

“I love you more than words could ever say,” Dimitri says, and he pushes himself in as far as he can, gently lowering himself onto Dedue without another word. 

It is so warm, so overwhelmingly warm that he almost can't believe it’s real. He kisses Dedue passionately as he gives him time to adjust to the new feeling, to the new emotions swimming inside them both, but when Dedue tenses around him, his whole body _squeezing_ , Dimitri cries out a sound of devastation. 

“Does it feel good?” Dedue whispers, and when Dimitri raises his head to look into Dedue’s eyes, he is near tears. “Dimitri?” 

“Nothing has ever compared,” he answers. “Are you hurt?” 

“You could never hurt me,” he whispers, touching Dimitri carefully, a hand cradling Dimitri’s cheek. “You are the greatest thing to happen to me.” 

“So it is for the both of us,” Dimitri says, forehead resting against Dedue’s. “Lucky, isn’t it?” 

“Incredibly so,” Dedue smiles. 

The heat, the slick slide… it tempts Dimitri more as the seconds pass, but he can do little else besides exercise great patience before Dedue pushes him forward, heels on the small of Dimitri’s back as he urges him forward. 

“Please,” Dedue whispers. “Please.” 

Dimitri gives as if it is the last time he could ever give, giving his lifeblood and more to the man holding him, welcoming him inside. He thrusts his hips, and the lustful sounds of their bodies makes him drip with sweat, with passion. He gives himself over to the emotions, the sensations, and as they make love, he wishes the night never had to end. 

They kiss again and again, their sounds of pleasure echoing inside each other’s mouths. They reverberate, shaking along their wet skin, and Dimitri clenches, toes curling as he tries to hold himself back from spending too quickly. 

Dedue’s breathes come more and more labored, chest rising and falling against Dimitri’s as his mouth goes useless, as his body clings more and more to Dimitri. He comes between their bodies, cock pressed between Dimitri’s stomach and his own, and Dimitri follows him, following him wherever he might lead. He spends, whole body racked with pleasure as they hold each other the closest they ever have. 

The night is long and quiet, and they embrace, painted with love. They hold each other, satiated, satisfied, and Dimitri licks against the seam of Dedue’s lips, grateful. 

“I never thought I would ever feel at home here,” Dedue whispers. “These are foreign lands. And still… is it betrayal? To fight alongside you? To protect you? To love you as I do?” 

“Don’t,” Dimitri whispers. “Whatever you feel. Whatever you say. It means something. You mean something.” 

“I know,” Dedue whispers. “I know.” 

_One day,_ he thinks, _you will see your lands again. They will belong to you. And you will build your home there as well as the one you’ve built here in my heart._  
  


∑

The battle for the morning stretches on into the night, and when the demonic creature is gone, when she is nothing more than a girl in front of him again, he feels Dedue’s eyes on him. Feels the burden of compassion and all its lovely gravity.

“El,” he smiles, and he stretches out his hand. 

She smiles back, a secret little thing, and even then… he knows that it could never be. Not now. She gives him what he needs… the last offering. That dagger. He takes it, does not fulfill his side of the offer with any joy. 

When she breathes out, bleeding her lifeblood, he is relieved. It is over. Through. Just as he hoped, he will see the after. He only wished that she might see it too. 

“Your Highness,” Dedue says, a hand on Dimitri’s shoulder. “Come.” 

They walk across the throne room to the grand doors, and just once, he thinks, he should see her again. 

Dedue’s hand pulls him through the doors, and he never gets a chance to look back. It is for the best. There is nothing but the present now, nothing but the future.  
  


∑

He is crowned in Fhirdiad, and when the crown finally rests upon his head, Dedue is at his side, axe along his back. His armor bears the royal family’s coat of arms, and he is shining from head to toe.

Magicked birds streak through the halls of the palace, and the crowds cheer as he sits upon his throne. It feels so different than he thought it would. It does not feel as joyous. 

Not until he looks at Dedue, at least. 

He wears a look of pride, plain as day, beautiful like a sunrise across the horizon of the ocean. Dimitri smiles, overcome by the emotions, and he looks out along the rows and rows of people as they cheer and applaud, and _Oh,_ it will be hard being king. But it will be worth it. The burden of good work.  
  


∑

He knew that it would be a challenge to rebuild the kingdom after it was torn apart, feasting upon itself for five long years, but even that knowledge did not prepare him for the legislating, the counseling, the audiences… each day seems longer than the last, and every night, he goes to sleep with more things to do, more people to speak to, more meetings to attend. There is the dealing with merchants, the farmers, the warriors and soldiers. There are few uprisings, which Dimitri is grateful for. No more challenges. No more fighting.

Dimitri learns as he goes, not really caring for the ruling, but knowing deep down inside him that he was meant for this. A distant part of him yearns for the easier days, days when he didn’t think much, only _felt_. 

“You always thought,” Dedue says, and he watches as Dimitri unpeels himself from his cloth shirt, throwing it to drape across the footboard. Dimitri cocks an eyebrow at him. “You sometimes didn’t think as much as this.” 

“The truth comes out,” Dimitri deadpans, and it makes Dedue laugh. “Come. To bed.” 

“You know that I’m meant to watch over you,” Dedue says. 

“Has it stopped you from warming my bed these last months?” Dedue’s face goes red, and he drops his weapon at the door. “That’s more like it.” 

“It would not be wise to upset a king,” Dedue reasons, and he begins to unsheathe himself from his armor, well-practiced now. 

“Quiet, else I’ll have to quiet you myself,” Dimitri jokes. 

“How would his Highness do such a thing?” Dedue says, and he pulls his chest-plate up and over his head, revealing the mail underneath. After that tinkles to the ground, he draws his cloth shirt up and off, and Dimitri lets his eyes wander, tracing the musculature. “You are a lustful creature, my king.” 

“And I only grow more lustful as I stare at you,” Dimitri says. “Join me in this lonely bed, won’t you?” 

“As you wish, Your Highness,” Dedue says, and he pulls himself down to his cloth pants, pulling back the sheets on the right side and slipping underneath him. “How was your meeting with the master of coin?” 

“Long,” Dimitri says. “Frivolous.” 

“You need only shout,” Dedue says. “I will storm the chamber and free you at once.” 

Dimitri laughs, and he buries himself in Dedue’s arms, listening to the happy sound rumbling through Dedue as well. 

“Thank you for your generous offer,” Dimitri whispers, and he presses a kiss to Dedue’s bare chest. “I will keep it in mind.” 

“That’s all I’ll ever ask,” he says, arm around Dimitri’s shoulder. 

He shares the silence, a subdued song, and it is then, Dimitri thinks… the right moment. 

“I had something to discuss with you,” Dimitri whispers. 

“What, my king?” 

“A trip,” Dimitri whispers. “A diplomatic meeting between… between myself and the people of Duscur.” Dedue draws sudden breath, and he goes still. “Have I misspoken?” 

“No,” Dedue says. “No, you haven’t.” 

“Is it too soon?” Dimitri wonders. 

“I do not think there could be a soon enough,” Dedue whispers, and he presses a kiss to Dimitri’s forehead. 

“Truly?” Dimitri asks, an eagerness running through him. “Do you think they would be receptive to… to a commitment to independence?” 

“For many, it is what they have been waiting their entire lives for,” Dedue whispers. “Dimitri, I—I cannot ask you to sacrifice your reign like this.” 

“S-Sa—What do you mean?” 

“They will not look kindly upon an act such as this,” Dedue says. “Your reputation… it will suffer.” 

“It is not some benevolent act,” Dimitri reminds him. “It is what you are owed. It is _less than_ what you are owed.” 

“Even so—” 

“Do not allow your affections for me distort your memory,” Dimitri beseeches. “Help me in this. Allow me to do what I can so that you can bring your home to glory once more.” 

“Your Highness—” 

“Dedue,” Dimitri whispers, and he brings his lips to Dedue’s. “Please. Let me.” 

“As you wish,” Dedue says. “I… would you feel the same about this cause were it not for me?” 

“I cannot say,” Dimitri whispers. “Besides, it matters not. I feel the way I feel, and nothing can change it now.” 

“I believe in you,” Dedue says, and he kisses Dimitri softly, gently. “I trust in you. You… Dimitri, you give me hope.” 

“I merely give you back the hope that you’ve given me,” Dimitri says. “I would not be half the man I am without you.” 

Dedue sighs out, some sign of relief, of affection, of sleep, and Dimitri sighs too. It has been a long battle. Finally, their rest has come.  
  


∑

Dedue escorts him to the meeting, and in truth, Dimitri feels that he does very little in the proceedings. Dedue deals with the appointed rulers, a council of twelve that will help to oversee the rebuilding communities. Once independence is brought to the table, they accept without another word. After, Dimitri pledges his aid, whatever reparations they will accept for the losses they’ve seen.

“I cannot undo what Faerghus has done,” Dimitri says solemnly. “I can only wish that we might… change the future for the better. It is my great hope that we can become friends. Allies.” 

It does not seem likely, not within a year or even five, but _maybe_ , he thinks. _Just maybe._

“How could we ever trust a king from Faerghus?” one of them asks very politely. “A man dressed in your colors… that has only ever meant death for us.” 

“You will see in time,” Dedue says simply. “When he makes good on his words, then you will see what kind of man he is.” 

“And you,” another asks. “How can we even trust you?” 

“My life is dedicated to you,” Dedue says. “To these lands.” 

“You’ve spent the better part of your life in the service of this boy-king,” a man says. “Does that not make you a traitor?” 

“Anything but,” Dimitri interrupts. “Dedue is the reason we’re here. All of us. He is the reason this reconciliation can move forward. Never in my life have I known someone so dedicated to his country. To his people. He is loyal to Duscur, and his loyalty to me was born from an unquenchable desire to see Duscur rise from her ashes. We are here to wet that thirst. To right those wrongs. I owe him my life, and… and I am indebted to him. Forever.” 

There is a quiet, a gentle kind, and Dimitri dare not even breathe. 

“This does not wipe away the sins of the past,” a woman says, voice light and airy. 

“I know it well,” Dimitri says, “and that is why I, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, king of Faerghus and the lands of Fódlan, pledge myself to the peace between our great nations on this day, and every day until my death.” 

They look between them. 

“We will discuss these terms amongst ourselves,” one of them says. “Shall we reconvene for more discussions say, in a fortnight?” 

“As you wish,” Dimitri says.  
  


∑

The reconciliation efforts move forward, and Dimitri makes good on his word. Money, resources… it goes towards Duscur, and within the decade, they see the country grow back to glory. It is Dedue, of course, all his work. He is bright, wise, dedicated, and Dimitri tries to model himself off him. Tries to take just a piece of that and make it shine within him too.

They spend those years happily, wrapped in each other’s arms, but the day comes. Dimitri always knew it would. They are in their chambers together, and Dimitri readies himself for bed as Dedue stands at the foot. He can see it coming a mile away, one eye or not. 

“I have a favor to ask of you,” Dedue says. 

Dimitri bows his head. “Anything, you know that you will have it.” 

“I once asked if you would let me leave,” Dedue says. “Do you remember it, my king?” 

“I do,” Dimitri says. 

“Do you remember what you said?” 

“I remember,” Dimitri says, heart beating in his throat. 

“Relieve me of my service.” 

Dimitri looks up, shocked, and Dedue’s eyes, dark and deep, are wet with tears. 

“Y-Yes,” Dimitri says. “Yes, of course.”

Dedue looks around, an out of character move. He looks around _nervously_ , but there is no one there, no one in Dimitri's office except for the two of them. It is safe. 

“Without another word?” Dedue asks. “Just like that?” 

_No,_ he thinks. _No, it is taking everything within me not to beg you to stay. It is taking all the will that I have. What will become of me without you? What am I without you to balance me? To keep me and hold me? What am I without my love for you?_

“You have already given me so much,” Dimitri asks, throat tight. “You gave your life once.” 

“Not in truth.” 

“In truth,” Dimitri says. “You gave everything you had to me. The very least I can do is let you return whence you came.” 

Dedue looks away, and Dimitri’s heart falls to the floor, shattered. They had been so good together. Learning to live without Dedue by his side will be a much greater challenge than any he’s faced before. Dedue was his sword and shield, but he was so much more. Always. Since the very beginning.

“I had once thought that… that being away from you would be the death of me,” Dedue says, and when he looks to Dimitri’s gaze, his eyes are starry with mist. “I placed my faith in you. In the knowledge that you would help to right the wrongs of the past. Our mission is done now. Complete.” 

“So it is,” Dimitri says. “But it was your work. You’ve done it.” 

“I did,” Dedue says, “but your role… your help.” He looks away again, eyes shut. “It would be disingenuous to say that I have not become reliant on you.” 

“As I have upon you.” 

“Being away from you... it would not kill me, of course it wouldn’t,” Dedue says. “But it will pain me so.” 

“A-And yet you must return,” Dimitri says. “You must.” 

“I must.” 

“F-For the good of Duscur,” Dimitri says. 

“Yes, of course. For my people, my country. And for the good of us too,” Dedue says. 

“W-What do you mean?” Dimitri asks. “The good of us?” 

“For you, Your Highness. You are meant to be a king.” 

“A-And I am,” Dimitri says, and he gestures to the room around them, the drafts of diplomatic documents strewn across the desk. “Is this not being king? You were there at my side during the coronation. You saw the crown placed upon my head.” Dimitri stands, puts his hands on his hips. “Is that not king?” 

“It is, Your Highness, and I was,” Dedue smiles. “It was one of the happiest days of my life.” 

“Then speak plainly.” 

“You will be expected to take a wife,” Dedue says easily. 

“And so I will disappoint,” Dimitri says. “What of it?” 

“You need to pass your Crest,” Dedue says. “It is too important to lose.” 

“You are more important than the Crest, than the line of succession,” Dimitri says. “W—This is foolishness. Your place has always been here. By my side. I… I never—I don’t like thinking about being without you.” 

Dedue is quiet. Dimitri raises his eyebrows. 

“And yet,” Dedue says. 

“And yet?” 

“And yet you know that I must return to Duscur,” Dedue says. “It is where my heart belongs.” 

“Yes,” Dimitri says, and he closes his eye. “Yes, I know.” 

“P-Please know,” Dedue says, and the falter makes Dimitri look upon him, “know that I have always loved you truly. That my actions were not _selfish_ in nature.” 

Dimitri frowns, mouth falling open as he comes around the desk. He reaches out, hands on either side of Dedue’s face. 

“There is not a selfish bone in your body,” Dimitri whispers. “You are the most selfless man I’ve ever known.” 

Dedue closes his eyes, and when Dimitri pulls him close, he goes. They rest their foreheads against one another’s. 

“I thank you,” Dedue whispers. 

“Give your thanks elsewhere,” Dimitri whispers. “Someone who deserves them.” 

_Give them to yourself_ , Dimitri thinks, kissing Dedue quickly before he has time to argue.  
  


∑

Letting go is the hardest thing he’s ever done. Dimitri is sure of it.

He watches Dedue go, and he feels a pulling sensation in his stomach. His gut tells him to chase after him, to follow wherever Dedue leads, but he knows that this is more important than the two of them. It is more important than any one person. 

Still, he wishes he got more time, wishes he had written more. The feeling of Dedue’s arms, the press of their bodies in the mid-morning. The way they kissed. 

Dimitri watches Dedue’s shadow as it grows smaller and smaller, watches until he can’t see it anymore. He reminds himself that there is always more work to be done, but without Dedue at his side, he can’t remember the tasks.  
  


∑

The years pass as they always have, as they always will. Dimitri never forgets. Never once forgets.

He writes Dedue letters, words streaked across parchment that spill out his heart. He dreams of Dedue, and their constant correspondence only worsens the deal. He thinks of their easy conversations, the way he learned to read Dedue in their years together. He was never hidden with his emotions. He was just careful with them. Burdened by his compassion. Didn’t Dedue know that Dimitri would never think of him to be a burden? He is nothing of the sort. Light… so very light. 

He waits for a year, then another, then another, and then, he cannot stop himself any longer. He goes to him. Makes good on that promise from so long ago. 

The flowers on the hilltop are wild, streaking across the plain in purple, blue, red, and white. Dimitri looks over the fields, the sun on his skin. He closes his eye, lifts the patch so that the warmth can touch him all over. He thinks of Dedue’s hands, warm along his cheek. 

“Your Highness.” 

Dimitri turns at the sound of his voice, a song on the air, and there, there he is. After so long, three years or more, they look upon each other once more. 

He looks even taller than Dimitri remembers him to be, stronger too. His arms are thick with muscle, his hands covered with strong black gloves. There is sweat on his brow. Dimitri bites his lip, wants with every little piece of himself to throw himself into Dedue’s arms and take what he wants, what he’s always desired most of all. 

Instead, he holds himself very still as Dedue pulls the gloves from his hands, chucking them to the side. They land in the grass, and he bows slowly to Dimitri. 

“You… you mustn’t,” Dimitri says.

“You are the king,” Dedue says, raising himself back up with a hint of a smile. “You are supposed to bow to kings.” 

“I’m not _your_ king,” Dimitri stresses. 

“No, I suppose not.” Dedue looks Dimitri up and down before looking behind him. “Where is your escort?” 

“I am the king,” Dimitri says. “I can do as I like.” 

“But you are the king,” Dedue says flatly, unimpressed. 

“So I keep hearing.” 

“It isn’t wise to go without an escort,” Dedue says critically, his brows knitting together. “Who sits upon your council now?” 

“Why?” Dimitri asks. “Will you send them a warning about where I’ve run off to?” 

“No,” Dedue says. “I will send them a strongly worded letter about how to keep you safe from harm.” 

Dimitri takes a step forward, arms spreading, and Dedue smiles at him, soft, warm, gentle. He buries his face into Dedue’s chest, sighing out. Finally, he thinks. _Home._

“I know how to keep myself safe,” Dimitri says. 

“As you say, Your Highness.” 

Dimitri is sure that he could stand there until they came to ash, wrapped in the embrace of the great love of his life, but when Dedue begins to comb his fingers through the loose braid of Dimitri’s hair, he knows they must go somewhere more private. 

“How did you find me?” Dedue asks, voice gentle as it rumbles through Dimitri. 

“As if I would ever stop checking on you,” Dimitri says. “As if I could ever just let you _go_. The ravens are smart, but they’re not _smarter than me_.” 

Dedue laughs, the sound something like a bird in the open sky. 

“Too true, my king,” Dedue says. “Too true.” He sighs happily. “Can I show you back to the house? Perhaps after such a long journey, you would like to rest.” 

“I would love nothing more,” Dimitri whispers, and together, they walk through the fields of flowers to Dedue’s home. 

The house is small and wooden, built well, and Dimitri admires the craftsmanship of the furniture, some wrought iron, some wooden, all engraved and expertly decorated. The colors of Duscur, a teal blue and gold and red, paint the interior. Flowers sit in vases upon the kitchen table, the table by the bedside, and dried flowers hang from the nails next to the door. He breathes in, smells cinnamon spice. 

“It’s quite charming,” Dimitri says, each moment more reinforcing just how _real_ this is. 

“Do you think so?” Dedue whispers, and the voice comes so close that it shocks Dimitri. He turns, and Dedue wraps his arms around Dimitri’s waist. He smiles. “Is it fit for a king?” 

Dimitri wants to scold him, but he is too happy. Just too damn happy. 

They kiss, there in the doorway, the fields pouring in wind before Dedue shuts the door behind them. They walk towards the bed, singular in their goal, and they collapse to it together, picking their clothes off piece by cursed piece. Dimitri has _yearned_ for this, the pull of his body, the warmth and the love. They find each other here, in this place, a place called home, and Dimitri moans out loudly as Dedue touches him wetly, stroking fingers along him as he pushes inside. 

He opens his legs a little wider as he lets him inside, and he clings so tightly to Dedue once he’s finally back where he belongs that Dedue huffs out a breath. 

“You’re holding me too tightly, crest-bearer,” Dedue whispers, and he kisses down the side of Dimitri’s face, sucking a kiss to Dimitri’s neck as he begins to thrust. 

“I apologize,” Dimitri whispers thoughtlessly. “G-Gods…” 

“Which gods are you calling?” Dedue whispers, thrusting into Dimitri, the sounds of pure ecstasy vibrating out of them both. “Which gods, Dimitri?” 

“All of them,” he whimpers. “All of the gods of love.” 

The discoveries they make, each is fresh, each is perfect. He aches in the most bone-rattling way. He is awash in the glow, body trembling as the heat grows higher and higher, the flames of affection licking them all over.

“Please,” he whispers. “Dedue, please, I—” 

“Whatever you desire,” Dedue promises. “Whatever it may be.” 

“Inside me,” Dimitri whispers, and his body tenses with lust. “Please, I need you.” 

Dedue buries a groan into Dimitri’s neck, and Dimitri moans, back and forth, back and forth. Again. Again. 

It is over before too long, but _oh_ , Dimitri knows that he will have it again soon. Certainly. He will carry himself home with something to remember. He will leave a piece of himself here for Dedue to keep. Bruises on their bodies because they’ve been holding each other too tight. 

Dedue washes him clean, and Dimitri pulls Dedue down to rest. He has never felt more settled in covers that do not belong to him. Never felt more at peace. 

“I’ll need you again soon,” Dimitri says. “We’re making up for lost time, I’ll have you know.” 

“Yes,” Dedue says, and he presses a kiss to Dimitri’s shoulder. “I am well aware, my king.” 

Dimitri breathes out happily, eye shutting. At last. At last. 

When he opens his eye again, he notices a piece of art upon the wall, various shades of red ropes that are fashioned together in plaits and braids, complicated and complex. He breathes out shakily, strangely transfixed by it. 

“Where did that come from?” Dimitri asks. “It’s beautiful.” 

“I made it,” Dedue says. “People from Duscur make them whenever they are away from their loves. Each braid means a kiss. Each knot means an embrace.” 

This, Dimitri thinks, this is true love. 

“I’ve missed you,” Dimitri says, getting choked up as he stares at this little life that he couldn’t ever have imagined in such brilliant color. “And I’ve missed… seeing you make such things.” 

“I am a blacksmith, like my father before me and his father before him,” Dedue says softly, and his hand covers Dimitri’s shoulder. Rough but warm. “And this is… this is what I can remember. These things.” 

“It suits you,” Dimitri says, and he turns to lay across Dedue’s chest, staring into Dedue’s eyes. “This simple life.” 

He imagines Dedue in the early mornings before the sun’s even risen, frying eggs and herring on his stove, cracking salt and pepper over them before pouring himself a cup of coffee. Sitting at his little dining room table. Looking out over the billowing flower fields as he eats. Washing, a cold cloth over the back of his neck as he dresses. The heat… 

“I knew that it would,” Dedue says. “Just as you were always meant to be king. As the life of royalty always suited you.” 

“I… I didn’t mean it like that,” Dimitri says, frowning. “I didn’t—” 

“I know. But there isn’t anything wrong with a life spent happily, no matter what you do.” 

Dimitri lays his cheek on Dedue’s chest. “You’re right, of course.” 

Dedue sighs, and Dimitri rides the movement like a wave through the sea. Perhaps they could go to the sea. Spend the day there at the water’s edge. Something about standing on the shore… it is like seeing the end of the world. Maybe… maybe the reunion tradition, the one Dedue spoke of so long ago… 

“Some lonely days, I would think of you here with me,” Dedue says. 

“Would you believe me if I said the same?” Dimitri asks. 

“I would, Your Highness.” 

“Dimitri,” he pleads. “Please.” 

“All right, then,” Dedue says, and Dimitri can hear the smile as Dedue tightens his arm around Dimitri’s body. “Dimitri.” He shivers happily, the long line of his body against Dedue’s. “Is it that pleasing to you?” 

“Yes,” he admits. 

“I will remember that, Your Highness.” 

Dimitri groans, and he presses a kiss to Dedue’s pectoral as Dedue laughs softly. 

“Is it time for again?” Dedue asks. 

“Always,” Dimitri says, and he rolls onto Dedue before spreading his legs, holding them there with his hands. “ _Always._  
  


∑

He wakes in the early morning, the light streaking through the window. It is the best night’s sleep he’s had in years. He presses a kiss to Dedue’s lips, and Dedue wakes, a smile breaking through the sky as if he didn’t believe Dimitri was real.

“I… I kept my promise,” Dimitri whispers. “I saw the flowers.” 

“So you did,” Dedue whispers back. “You are a man of honor.” He pets his hand through Dimitri’s hair. “I thank you.”

Dimitri lets himself rest in the embrace, one that feels so familiar. 

“Tell me of Faerghus,” Dedue says. “Tell me of your great work.” 

“You hear enough,” Dimitri says. “In the letters. Tell me more of you.” 

“There is little to tell,” Dedue sighs. “It is but a simple life.” 

“More time to think of me?” 

“Yes, my king,” Dedue says, and it does not sound like a joke, at least, not to Dimitri’s ears. 

They lie in the embrace, and they watch the golden light of morning fall upon them. Silent, silent, and Dimitri has learned to love this quiet. Cherish it the way he cherishes Dedue’s hands on his skin. 

“Sometimes,” Dedue says softly, “it still feels like a betrayal to love you.” 

Dimitri looks at him, and he feels the emotions welling within him. 

“I understand,” Dimitri says. “And I’m sorry.” 

“Do you know what you’re sorry for?”

Dimitri touches Dedue, brushing his hand against Dedue’s cheek. Their skin was softer once. Dimitri can barely remember that time. He should have written down more. He should have committed it all to memory. 

“Yes,” Dimitri says. “Sorry for all of it.” 

Dedue says nothing, and Dimitri is glad for that. He could not take Dedue trying to console him. So much wrong, so much over the course of _years_ , and he couldn’t take any of the pain away. Not really. 

_A million more ghosts, stacked upon my shoulders,_ he thinks, closing his eyes. 

“No more of that,” Dedue commands, and Dimitri finds it easy to listen. “We are whole.” 

They rest together in Dedue’s bed. It is just big enough for the two of them, Dimitri thinks to himself, and he wonders if that was by happenstance or forethought. At a certain point, he realizes it matters not if they find themselves in that large wooden bed sinking into the soft mattress and soft blankets by accident or design. What matters, of course, is that they have found a place for their love in a world that certainly wanted to destroy it. They have found something lovely, something indestructible. 

_Yes,_ Dimitri thinks, _love is the great survivor. And we’ve survived._

“Would you come back with me to the kingdom if I inquired?” Dimitri wonders. “Come back for good?”

“Do you intend to inquire?” Dedue asks. 

“I do not.” 

“If the question won’t be asked, then what does the answer matter?” Dedue asks. 

“Sometimes the theoretical is important,” Dimitri says. 

“Is this another Faerghus tradition that I simply would never understand?” Dedue asks. Dimitri turns, serious, only to find Dedue smiling at him. But the smile fades, and Dimitri touches him, thumb against Dedue’s lips. Dimitri slips it down his neck. “I could not return with you now.” 

“I know,” Dimitri says.

“This is where I belong,” Dedue says. 

“I know.” 

And in truth, Dimitri did know. This was what Dedue had always wanted most of all. And at the very least, Dimitri had done his all to make those dreams come true. 

Wasn’t that love? Wasn’t love just a cheerful sacrifice? 

Dimitri thinks back to the tragedy some nights, about his choice to lay his body over Dedue’s. They were nothing more than boys, and still… what brilliance there was shining over them. Something divine. They had sacrificed so much for each other, and now it was time to live unencumbered by sacrifice. Free, free, free. 

“My home is always open to you, Your Highness,” Dedue says. 

“Truly?” 

“I would not say the words if I did not mean them with my whole heart,” Dedue says. 

“The kingdom could always use a diplomatic visit,” Dimitri suggests, and he looks into Dedue’s eyes, warm and soft. “Your old friends… I could call upon them.” 

“A meeting of the great lords?” Dedue smiles. “Just for me?” 

_Anything_ , Dimitri thinks. _For you? Anything at all._

“Of course.” 

“What diplomacy does a blacksmith’s son work with?” 

“The kind I prefer,” Dimitri whispers. “Quiet and strong and kind.” 

“Your Highness,” Dedue says, but it is quiet and strong and kind, and more important than all the rest, it is pleased. 

“I thought you said you would call me by my given name.” 

Dedue’s jaw moves, and he looks deeply into Dimitri, seeing clear through him as though he has always been a sheet of glass… or perhaps a mirror. 

_I see myself in you too,_ Dimitri thinks. _We are the same. We have always been quite the same, and that is why I must cling to you this way. You are the past, but you are so much more. You are my future._

“Dimitri,” Dedue says. 

That song. “Yes?” 

“I do not want to lose you,” Dedue says. “I can admit it now.” 

“I could never be without you,” Dimitri says. “Even when we are apart, we’re together.” 

“Thank you,” Dedue says, eyes shutting. “For letting me have all of this. My home. And my king.” 

Tears fall from Dimitri, easy, happy, tears. 

He would not have it any other way.  
  


∑

Dimitri sits at the table as Dedue cooks, and it feels so domestic, so normal and homey, that Dimitri allows himself to imagine a life like this. Just the two of them, unencumbered and unburdened.

 _There will always be a burden_ , he reminds himself. _And that burden is not a bad thing._

Dedue brings the stew to him, smiling shyly as he waits for Dimitri to taste. Dimitri expects little, of course, but he intends to make a show of his approval. 

Then, he tastes it. _Really_ tastes it. 

"What is it?" Dedue asks quickly. "Is it too hot?" 

It is full of flavor, bursting flavor, spice and meat, the sweetness of sugar and the bitterness of vegetables. Dimitri stares down in wonder as tears wet his face, as Dedue stands to clutch him close. 

"I'm sorry, my king," Dedue apologizes. "I hadn't thought..." 

"It is wonderful," Dimitri whispers. "I can taste it." 

"C-Can you?" 

"Next time," Dimitri says. "Could you make the sweet buns we used to have at the monastery?" 

"Next time?" Dedue asks, and he looks down at Dimitri with tears in his eyes. "I'll make them now."  
  


∑

The years come, and they go. He visits Duscur often, whenever he can find the time, and sometimes, Dedue visits Fhirdiad. They go to their old places, finding new memories and old. The flowers of Duscur spread across the border, and it blurs the lines. Things have never been better. Dimitri is sure of it.

When they are apart, Dimitri writes Dedue letters, and Dedue returns them as soon as he’s received them. Dedue sends Dimitri flowers, pressed and preserved, and Dimitri keeps a collection within his library. Dimitri takes up writing poetry in the long evenings whenever they are apart, and Dedue praises him, the words of love draped along his shoulders. 

It is not an easy life, but Dimitri knew his lot was never supposed to be easy. 

“Do you remember when we first kissed?” Dedue whispers, and his arms hold Dimitri as they look out over the ocean. 

“I remember,” Dimitri says. 

“Do you remember what I said about the traditions of my people?” 

“I remember it all,” Dimitri says. “As clear as if it was yesterday.” 

“What, then, for a reunion?” 

“You return to the great mother,” Dimitri whispers. “You float inside her, holding hands.” 

Dedue stands, and Dimitri watches him in wide-eyed wonderment. He offers Dimitri his hand, and slowly, Dimitri is pulled to his feet. Together, they stand at the sandy bank of the ocean, stripping each other of their clothes. They walk into the ocean together, the chill of the evening making Dimitri’s teeth chatter. 

They let their bodies float under the white light of the moon, hands clasped as the ocean welcomes them home. Dimitri closes his eye, letting the magic of the moment seep into his skin. Dedue did not need to share such a moment with him. Every day between them is another seal of love. 

When they return to Dedue’s home, they warm each other by the fire before making love in their bed. Dimitri has never known a home besides Faerghus, but now, he knows that home is a person. That home is _him_.  
  


∑

When they are old, grey, Dedue comes back to Faerghus, and he comes to stay.

“You shouldn’t have come,” Dimitri whispers, voice hoarse with illness. “You are needed elsewhere.” 

“I am needed here,” Dedue whispers back. “Remember? You kept your word, so I will keep mine.” 

“What word was that?” Dimitri asks. 

“You saw the flowers, and now, I will keep you until the end of time,” Dedue says. “Until the end of our red ropes.” 

“I cannot ask you to stay,” Dimitri says. 

“You do not need to ask, my king,” Dedue whispers, his lips against Dimitri’s forehead. “My _love_. Dimitri.”  
  


∑

When Dimitri passes, he is buried beneath the flowers in Duscur.

Dedue follows.  
  


∑

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well, i did say this part would be longer.... whooops. anyway, i hope u enjoyed! if u read this! thank u! i really love these two,,,, i hope maybe to write some more of them someday. anyway, happy birthday to the best bear ever! we stan this man! 
> 
> have a great day! thank u for reading! if u liked it, leave me a comment ;~; 
> 
> [my twitter](https://twitter.com/okamiwind) | [my curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/okamiwind)


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